Tea and Firelight
by Fairies Masquerade
Summary: A collection of short ficlets depicting moments from 'The Walking Dead'. Mostly Caryl.
1. Liar

_**Summary:** Drabbles. Snippets of what may or may not become major stories later on. Mostly because I asked and tumblr delivered._

_**Rating:** G-M, depending on the drabble._

_**A/N:** Hello, my lovelies! It's been a while. I've had a serious case of writers block hampering my progress on my other work, so I went to tumblr and asked for some ideas. Not for full-length tics, just tiny dribbles of a sort, to help unstick my brain and get the creative juices flowing again. People delivered, and I have been writing like a madwoman for days. DAMN it feels good to write again._

_So, having shared on tumblr, I'd figure I'd throw the whole collection together and share them here. _

_This first one was an anonymous prompt: "Daryl confronts Carol saying she is not the killer, "That ain't her". She insists that she is the real killer, she is a monster. Angs angs angst.. Daryl knows she is lying and then she confesses she is covering for someone." If you know me, you know I do angst really well. (Seriously, go ask SOAlovingmom, noxidanamchara, imorca, Peta2… anyone, really. It's my jam.) It seems fitting thats how I start off here. It gets better, I promise._

* * *

It was hot, much too hot in Daryl's opinion. His shoulders burned like fire beneath the black leather vest as rivers of sweat ran down his neck, coating his back and chest and leaving his shirt damp and sticky. The dying summer sun flickered down through the trees in streams of gold and burnt orange, making the thick air shimmer with it's heat. He could taste the fine grit of dust that coated his teeth and tongue; the same grit that covered him from head to toe, the days of tracking and hunting leaving its mark on him. An hour ago he'd been dying for a stream, just long enough to rinse some of the filth from him and wishing he'd taken Carol up on her long ago offer to cut his hair, now limp and falling around his head in bushy tangles thick with grease.

He barely noticed any of it now; even the words of the exhausted, haggard woman in front of him threatening to drown in the screech of white noise thrumming in his ears as the one driving thought in his head pounded into him over and over again.

_That ain't her._

"Daryl, you're not _listening_ to me. I killed Karen. I killed David. " Carol insisted.

He shook his head at her, earning an angry growl in response. Such an odd noise from her tiny frame. Any other time, any other moment, he'd have laughed at her attempts to sound so ferocious.

"I know it's hard to understand," Carol said. "But I had to. They were a threat to all of us. I thought if I could stop the virus from spreading, it would be worth it. I could tell the quarantine wasn't going to work-"

"Jus' stop," Daryl said, tiredly rubbing his hand across his face. "Why are you doin' this?"

"Don't," Carol replied. "Don't make this harder than it is."

"I don' believe you," Daryl said again. Again and again, how ever many times it would take for her to understand that he knew her, through and through. _That ain't her._

"Why can't you..." Carol ran her grimy looking fingers through her hair, the frustration clear on her face. "Why is this so hard for you to understand?!"

_'Cause I know you fret over ever lil' thing an' all of us all the time. 'Cause I watch you pace the prison walkways at night when you think I'm sleepin', worryin' and tryin' to see where else you can help and whatcha can do. 'Cause I hear from everybody else how ya's always pickin' up extra chores here an' there or takin' the time to let somebody else cry on your shoulder again, lettin' all their worries out on you. 'Cause I can see you killin' to keep any one of us safe but murder ain't in you._

"That ain't you," he said softly.

"I killed them," Carol said again, her voice getting louder as she ignored the firm shaking of his head. "They were a threat. Nobody else would do anything, so I stepped up! You don't have to like it, but you damn well better accept it."

"No."

"Yes," she replied insistently. "_I_ stabbed them in the head. _I_ dragged them outside and burned their corpses. Me, _I did that!_"

"Stop lyin' to me." His voice, almost a whisper now. He saw something in her face then, the inner turmoil inside of her bursting to the surface.

"_I killed them_, Daryl!" Carol shouted, her hoarse cry ringing through the trees around them. He waited, watching her tremble and shake before him, her eyes shiny with swirls of too many emotions for him to place. He waited until the last echoes of her declaration faded into the woods around them before giving her his whispered answer.

"Liar."

"_God damn it!_" Screaming now, so fiercely he started to worry her vocal chords would burst before she was done. "Why won't you believe me? I had to!_ I had to!_ I had to because it was the _only_ thing I could think of and I wanted to tell you but you weren't there and I panicked. It was my fault this happened. I'm so _stupid_ to think I could make a positive difference and _look_ at how_ horrible_ everything is now. Now _every time_ I close my eyes all I see is the bodies, I can still smell them burning, _everything's_ burning, all the time and its all my fault, it's my fault they're dead. I'm a _monster_, a monster that created _more_ monsters when all I wanted was to make them strong, help them _survive_ and then we were _there_ and everything was _awful_ and there was _so much blood_ on the ground and the stench and everyone was screaming. I thought Tyreese was going to hurt you or _kill_ you and I almost _died_ from watching him come at you like that. I couldn't _think_, I couldn't _breathe_, because it was so _fucking horrible_ I couldn't stand it. I had to be strong, I had to do _something_, so I did! I did it for_ you_, I did it for Glenn and Judith and Lizzie and Mika. I did it for Rick. Fucking _Rick_ and he casts me away like I'm garbage clinging to his shoe when he doesn't even realize how wrong he is because he refuses to see what's happening _right in front of him_ but I had to go because I'd _said it_ and it was too late to go back! _It's my fault! I killed them! **Why can't you just believe it?!**"_

With a pop, the white noise that had been filling Daryl's ears died out, leaving him with nothing more than the echoes of Carol's screams, the truth ringing out to him clear as a bell from the muddled mess of her ranting as all of her rage and grief finally spilled over. _I was right. That ain't her._

"Always thinkin' 'bout everybody else first," Daryl finally said. "That's my girl."

Carol collapsed with an anguished cry, her weathered pack dropping from her shoulder as she fell. Daryl caught her before she hit the ground, moving to her faster than he could think. One of her hands clamped down on his shoulder; the other scrabbled at his chest, twisting his shirt tight in her fist as if she was trying to keep him from running away. As if he'd ever leave her now. His arms curled around her as he sank to the moss-strewn ground, pulling her into his lap while she buried her face in his neck and let her tears and choked whispers of _'sorryimsorryimsosorry'_ mingle with his sweat-soaked skin. They stayed like that, curled together, long after the last whisps of sunlight had faded, leaving only the night shadows to drape around them like a curtain to keep them safe from the world.


	2. Firelight

_**A/N:** Hi, again. I'm posting this one so quickly because it ended up being a direct continuation of the first story. leigh57 prompted: "I would LOVE to read any tiny snippet of a quiet conversation Carol and Daryl have after they're finally reunited. Bonus points if they're sitting by a fire, because I have such a total *thing* for conversations by fires. :)" _

_How could I refuse?! Besides, it played really well into my first prompt. I promise much less angst in this one. Cross my heart._

_Also, to answer a question: Yeah, I'm still up for taking prompt ideas of anyone is interested. Just send me a PM with your idea. I'll do the best I can._

_**Disclaimer:** Seriously, I own nothing. Why do you keep asking me this nonsense?_

* * *

"I didn't think you'd leave them to look for me," Carol said softly.

They were sitting together in front of the small fire Daryl had started. Carol was curled in on herself, arms wrapped around her legs, staring into the orange flames, her face drawn and tired from the emotional turmoil of their day: finding each other, her confession that she'd lied, the days and weeks of being alone, all of it. Daryl was watching her, the play of shadows as they danced across her face. They were close enough that their shoulders were just barely touching; Daryl could make out just the slightest hint of pressure and warmth through his leather jacket. There was only the pop and crackle of their fire to keep them company, the woods themselves falling silent in deference to the quiet, bottomless ocean of feelings Daryl found himself drowning in.

"Why would you ever think that?" Daryl replied quietly.

"Rick-"

"Ain't _me_," Daryl interrupted.

"But-"

"_Carol._"

It was the the rare use of her name that made Carol turned her face to him, resting her chin on her shoulder as she studied him by the firelight. Daryl stayed quiet as he waited for her, feeling her eyes roam every inch of his face and letting his own rake over her in return, taking in every tiny detail and committing her to memory. He hadn't done her justice in the time they'd been apart, the constant recall of every moment together he'd put himself through as he hunted for her having missed the scattering of light freckles that dances around the arch of her cheek, the thin scar that ran above her left ear into her hairline, the exact shade of blue of her eyes, a blue he'd never seen anywhere else. He kept looking at her eyes once he found them, willing her to look back at him and see him the way she always had, the way no one else ever could.

"I don't know," she finally said, her voice full of quiet awe. He smirked, wondering how Carol, with everything she saw, could have missed _this_, of all things.

"Don' let it happen again," he murmured as he narrowed his eyes at her.

For the first time since he'd found her that morning, Carol smiled at him, really _smiled_, and he felt it spread through him all the way down to his toes as they wiggled with joy inside his boots. _There she is._

"I promise," she said, still smiling as she turned back to the warm glow.

Daryl grunted in reply as he turned to face the fire. He held out his hands, letting the heat from the flames creep under his skin as he kept watching her from the corner of his eye. They were quiet together, each of them lost in their own thoughts. It was a long time before Carol spoke again.

"You didn't think you were going to find me in one piece," she said.

Daryl jerked his head so fast he felt the chords in his neck pop. _Of all the things..._

"No," he said shortly, surprising even himself with the vocalisation of his deepest fear, the gnawing ache that had threatened to overwhelm him as each day of his trek passed too reminiscent of the last time he'd looked for someone. He'd been _so afraid_.

How many times was he going to have to look for her, each search full of more and more regrets of what should have been, before that fear came to pass? He knew what life was now. He'd known first hand the ache of losing someone you loved, the screaming inside his head growing with each downward thrust of his knife through his brother's rotted skull until he's almost burst still haunted him in his sleep sometimes. But he'd also witness the ache of lost chances and time, watching Rick slip further and further into himself until nothing but the palest echoes of the former lawman remained. Rick was a walker already, he just didn't know it yet.

"Why would you think such a thing?" Carol asked.

"I-I don't..." Daryl stammered, confused.

"Nine lives, remember?" Carol replied with a twist of her lips.

_Nine fucking lives. Of course. _She'd kept her promise, stayed safe, just as she always did despite her tendency to end up in situations that scared the daylights out of him.

Losing Carol was inevitable. He knew that now. He'd just finally figured out that it was what he did while he still had her that mattered.

"You're right. Of course ya are. 'M sorry," Daryl sighed.

Carol smirked at him, full of the same quiet grace she'd always had. Stronger than anyone had ever given her credit for. Steel forged in fire, a phoenix._ His_, he realized as his breath caught in his throat. Utterly, completely his. He saw the truth of it in her eyes clear as the summer sun. It didn't matter. He was already hers and had been for longer than he could remember.

"Don't let it happen again," she chided him teasingly.

He leaned forward until his forehead rested on hers, their noses brushing together as they became one in the dying firelight.

"_I promise._"


	3. Tea Time with Michonne

_**Prompt:** atoizzard over on tumblr asked for "Michonne's back story with kids. Hershel being a surrogate father to Daryl. A laugh between the women. Michonne bringing back tea from a run and everyone enjoying a cup. Glenn teasing Carol about how Daryl stares at her."_

_**A/N:** I went with the Michonne bringing back tea and bonding time between the women to mean bonding time between Carol & Michonne over Andrea. Because one of the things I dearly miss from the show is actual conversations and friendships, especially amongst the women. Its very, very short, but sweet. _

* * *

Carol took a long swig from the oversized soup mug in her hand, swirling the liquid around in her mouth to catch every burst of flavor the darkly sweet liquid had to offer before swallowing, enjoying the burning warmth as it trickled from her throat to seep deep in her bones.

"_Oh my god_, I've missed tea," she moaned.

"I thought you'd like it," Michonne replied with a laugh.

They were perched together on the roof of C Block, legs dangling off the side in the grey morning mist. Each had a large mug of the tea Michonne had brewed and brought up to accompany their morning ritual of waiting for the sun to rise.

It had started a few weeks ago. Michonne, back from another unsuccessful run at hunting down the Governor and plagued with insomnia, had stumbled upon Carol, sitting on the edge of the roof with her feet curled under her and wrapped in her lumpy, overlarge sweater. Carol had admitted she rarely slept more than a couple of hours a night, her dreams as bad as the creatures shambling around the edges of their makeshift home. She'd been watching the sunrise every morning for more years than she could remember, one of her few moments of peace in the frenetic existence that had been her life. Michonne had joined her every morning after. They rarely spoke, each reluctant to disturb the quiet solitude of the early mornings but still finding a measure of comfort in each others' company. Over the weeks though, they'd each revealed tiny bits of themselves to each other, how Carol didn't like gum and knew how to write with both hands, Michonne with her addiction to cooking shows even though she'd been a horrible cook.

"She mentioned once you missed tea," Michonne said abruptly. Carol turned her head, caught off guard.

"Who—oh." _Andrea__._ Carol wondered whether or not she should expand on this, and figured she may as well jump in. "Yeah, we had a cup or two together back when we lived at the farm. They didn't have a lot of tea, but sometimes Patricia would sneak us out a pot of it some mornings. If she did, Andrea, Dale and I would go sit on top of this beat up old RV Dale drove and drink tea together and talk about things." Things from before, light and silly, trying to distract themselves from their reality and the daily painful ache that burned inside Carol's stomach of missing Sophia.

Michonne was quiet for a moment, nodding over her cup. Carol sipped her tea and waited, watching the quiet woman from the corner of her eye.

"We were holed up in the back of this rinky dink coffee house," Michonne started quietly. "All the food we could find were some stale peta chips and a can of mint tea. Andrea… she mentioned you and the RV thing. Made me smile." Michonne drank deep from her mug before continuing. "I think she really missed you."

"I missed her, too," Carol said quietly.

The conversation lulled again as they watched the grey sky slowly fade into the pale blue of early morning. Carol could just make out the first glimmer of the sunlight starting to peak over the horizon.

"Don't tell anyone," she mock-whispered, "but I'm totally hoarding all of this tea for myself."

"My lips are sealed," Michonne said with a smirk.


End file.
